Light Switch

Scenes from a visit with Ethan

noreply@blogger.com (Rockin) — Fri, 25 May 2012 13:00:00 +0000

Ethan is a young guy I've been seeing for about a month. My boy was inspired to call me a cougar for seeing him because of the age difference between Ethan and me. I met up with him for a couple of dates and we enjoyed each other a lot, so I went to see him for a more extended evening visit (read: sexy times). Neither of us had gotten tested for STIs yet, so we'd agreed to keep things in the manual-play / mutual masturbation arena for the time being. Here I share a few scenes from the evening we spent together.

*****

We both were clothed only from the waist down.

"Come here," I said, taking his hands and pulling him off the bed. He stood near the bed as I hopped back on, sliding back until just my ankles and feet were hanging off the edge, my legs slightly apart. I leaned back on my elbows and looked at him.

"I want you to take off my pants," I told him, smiling. I didn't move.

He slid his hands up my legs and pulled at the button on my jeans. It popped through the hole and the zipper undid itself easily. He tugged my pants down over my ass and pulled at the legs until my pants were in his hands. He dropped them on the floor, undid his own and slid them down to his ankles.

I moved to the edge of the bed to kiss him. We kissed and I ran one of my hands down his body, nearing his cock.

"Touch me. You've seen it, you know how big it is." He'd sent me a nude photo. It was a head-to-mid-thigh bathroom mirror shot, and while his cock was in the picture, I still hadn't quite grasped just how well endowed he was. I guess I chalked it up to a flattering mirror angle. In person, sliding over his boxer briefs, yeah, I had a much better understanding. Goddamn.

He climbed up on the bed with me and we rolled around more, grinding into each other's legs, talking about how we wanted to fuck even though we couldn't.

I stroked him and he moaned and grabbed at me, rubbing his fingers over the front of my bright pink panties. He circled and rubbed my clit, then pressed hard along my labia, not penetrating me through the fabric but pushing insistently where my lips parted. I kissed him and told him I wanted him, wanted his fingers, his cock, wanted him to fuck me, all of that, yes yes yes...

*****

"I want you to see this," I said, as I slid off the bed to stand next to it. I faced him as I pulled down on the sides of my panties until they sat just slightly below my bits. Then I grabbed the center part and pulled it down, so he could see all of the glistening strands of my wetness between my bits and my panties. The fabric, my fingers, and my pussy all shined under the fluorescent lights.

"You really weren't kidding when you said you were wet," he said, smiling a bit.

"I don't kid about stuff like that."

*****

We were naked on his bed, and we paused the physical stuff for a minute to talk.

We talked about how the latex gloves and lube deal would work and how we might make things most enjoyable for both of us. I told him I often feel pressured to come, and even though I want to and probably can come, if I feel like I have to, or that I am expected to, it makes things really difficult. He took all of that in and dealt with it really well (surprisingly well).

He slid gloves on and I lay down next to him since he said he wanted to touch me. He stroked around my clit a little, played with it with his fingers, and then suddenly dove into me. I was so wet and turned on by this point that it felt incredibly good to finally have something inside me, but he still startled me a little. He pushed into me, pulling up up up, moving his fingers around and in and out, while rubbing my clit side to side with his other hand and kissing my mouth.

He pulled back from kissing me for a second. "Look at you, are you whimpering?" It wasn't a question. But yeah, yeah, I was.

"Haven't been fingered like this in a while?"

*****

Laying on his back, he had one hand behind his head and the other, gloved, near my legs. I knelt next to him, squeezing a few drops of silicone lube on his shaft and my glove. His cock was so pretty. It doesn't seem like the right word, but it was pale peachy pink and it just looked pretty, alright? It was also pretty damn fun to stroke. I spread the lube around and eased my hand up and down his shaft a few times until it glistened.

"You said you don't know what you're doing, but you're doing a damn fine job there," he told me. On our second date, he said he loved handjobs, and I told him I wasn't that great at them at all. But I guess a girl can learn.

I didn't need much lube on my bits, but we still put some on his glove. He hooked his fingers into me while I kept stroking his cock.

"Your mouth is just hanging open. I bet you're wishing you could suck on it."

He was right on both accounts.

"God, yes, yes, I do. I just...uhhnn, can't. Fuck, I want your cock in my mouth."

*****

We were still naked on his bed, now on our backs, laying perpendicular to each other with our legs and feet intersecting and sort of bracing against each other. Our hands on our own bodies, stroking between our legs. We watched each other. In particular, he watched me watch his hands as he stroked himself.

"Yeah...watch me. Look at it. All of this is going to be inside you."

Stroke, stroke, stroke...

"You want me to come for you?" he asked.

"Yeah--"

"Beg."

To be continued

Casual sex: How can you have fun with someone you barely know?

noreply@blogger.com (Rockin) — Sun, 20 May 2012 11:29:00 +0000

While corresponding with a new friend from OkCupid, we started talking about the definition of casual sex and our thoughts on the activity. In part of his reply, he said that he felt casual sex was sex with someone you barely knew. He called it empty and pointless, and asked how you could have fun in that situation. Before I reply, I decided to gather my thoughts on the issue and share them here. I'm not upset at his reaction, but I wouldn't use the same adjectives he used. I think casual sex can be fun, exciting, and challenging (in a good way).

Here are some of the benefits I see in having casual sex:

Low stakes!
The sex doesn't mean as much as if you're having sex for the first time with someone you're dating / care about / possibly love. You can look at it like, "The sex doesn't mean much," or you can look at it like, "Hey! The sex doesn't mean much! Low stakes! Low pressure!" I choose the latter. While I'm having fun I can focus more on having fun without worrying if I'm living up to expectations, fulfilling their fantasies, or any of those other pressures that sometimes accompany sex within a more intimate relationship.

It doesn't have to mean anything aside from the fact that you both wanted to fuck.
This is separate from the first point because it's after the fact. If I have sex with someone I really care about, I might wonder what it means, if/how it changes things, or whether things will get awkward. If we only know each other a bit, it'd be weird to place a ton of meaning on the sex. The sex will probably change things for the better, no matter how it goes. And we were probably way more awkward around each other just before having sex than we are afterward (more on that in a minute).

Concentrated time for discovery and surprises.
Part of what I love about first dates is getting to learn a lot about a new person in a short period of time. I enjoy finding things we have in common, learning new things about life from a person, and just experiencing another human, taking them in, and processing them. And I think I get a lot of that "first date" feeling from having sex with someone, too. But it's better, because we both already know we're attracted to each other and we at least get along well enough to want to fool around. We're in the same boat of wanting to explore each other and feel good together. And you're still in that "everything's new" mindset, which I love. That's pretty awesome.

It forces me to be a good communicator up front...
These last two benefits go together and are related to the second point a bit, because sex or sexual intimacy makes me feel much more at ease with someone. Along with sex come responsibilities. Before I'm intimate with someone I have to talk to them about a few crucial things (that I sometimes get cold sores, safer sex rules, my limits, etc.), and we have to be on the same page. If I'm getting intimate with a person after just a couple dates, I've got to be direct, mature, and clear. This isn't a particularly easy benefit to casual sex, I'll admit; it's more that it's a skill that improves with practice.

...and makes it easier to communicate afterward.
If we're going to go out or stay friends or whatever, it's probably way easier to talk about that after we've seen each other naked, made lots of sex sounds together, and maybe held each other a bit. I feel like it's easier to just be honest about all of that stuff. Why would I worry about seeming vulnerable around someone who has already seen me in very vulnerable states?

Now you have my views on it. Casual sex is in some ways a concentrated time of low-pressure fun, and in other ways is a new challenge that helps improve communication skills. Win-win, yeah?

Hints of things to come

noreply@blogger.com (Rockin) — Thu, 17 May 2012 09:46:00 +0000

Y'all probably thought when said I gave up vibrators forever that I gave up on this site, too, huh? Ha! Fat chance. I've just been busy. Super busy! I've been working a lot, and I've made some new connections via OkCupid. Tales of both good and bad dates to come! I have some sexy-sex stories involving my boy and me to share with y'all, too.

Also, I am now a cougar. More on that later.

I appreciate those of you who keep up with me on Twitter. I hang out on there almost every day even if I'm not tweeting. Feel free to follow me! I don't always follow back, but I often will if you chat with me on there.

If you want to hear about any of these new tales specifically, let me know in a comment or a tweet and I'll write/post those ones first!

And one last thing, would any of you be interested in a free one-month subscription to the queer porn site Crash Pad Series? I'd love to know, because I will be having a giveaway for a subscription in the near future!

I might give up vibrators forever

noreply@blogger.com (Rockin) — Fri, 27 Apr 2012 19:00:00 +0000

You might remember that I gave up vibrators for Lent. Easter's come and gone and...

I just don't miss them. There were a couple times during Lent when I was super frustrated and just wanted to come, but instead of caving, I set aside some time and touched myself. I got out one of my favorite dildos (why it's discontinued, I don't know) and got to know my g-spot better.

I had some incredibly satisfying orgasms. Multiple ones, even. My g-spot is so fucking happy. My clit is happy, too, now that I don't have to vibrate it until it swells to twice its size or rub it to pieces just to get off.

Several times when I masturbated, I'd get off two or three times in the same session. I'd be panting and sweating afterward. My hands and arms ached. And I just wanted to be stronger, to find better angles, and to make myself come like that over and over again.

I don't know whether I was having g-spot orgasms or blended ones or what, but I don't really care. They blew my mind.

During these experimental times, I also figured out that I'd been doing something wrong for years.

My g-spot is actually about half an inch or an inch deeper inside me than I thought it was. Took me fucking long enough to figure that out, eh? I really have to hook my finger around and press almost "out" of my pussy to hit the right spot. It feels like a little vein or something, right in the center. It's easier for me to hit with one finger rather than two, although with two I can slide one over to the side and benefit from having more finger-curling strength. My Snake of Paradise hits it just right with that little glass bump on its head.

Maybe I'll go back to vibrators one day if I get tired of this. But for now I'm good without them. Fingers and dildos and cocks all the way, baby!

Cissexual and gender-something

noreply@blogger.com (Rockin) — Wed, 25 Apr 2012 08:11:00 +0000

I'm about 99.9% sure that I am cissexual. I love my entire body. My body and I get along splendidly, and I love all of the parts of it that swell and curve and engorge. When I strap on a cock, it's awesome. I like feeling like I can go fuck someone with my cock. But I don't view it as my cock, and when I take it off, I don't feel a loss. The strapped on cock is an addition, and not one I want for very long.

My gender is something I'm still wrapping my head around. I wrote about my gender back in November and I have a bit to add to it. I think I feel more like a girl when I am not feeling aroused or sexual. And when I am aroused and/or in some sexual mindset, I feel more like a boy. I use the terms girl and boy specifically. They are comfortable for me, unlike the terms man and woman.. I never feel like a man. I'm mostly used to referring to myself as a woman, but it doesn't really feel like me. Girl is much more comfortable for self-references. When other people gender me or use gender-y words to describe me or reference me, I do not feel conflict. I feel like their view of me is valid, that their words are not wrong. Sometimes I feel anxious, though, when people talk about being a woman or how ladies are or behave. I wonder if I act like a girl well enough.

And that's kind of what I'm getting at here. This is scary for me to write, mostly because I am afraid the way I describe myself is somehow insensitive. But I feel like I am playing a part. Society views and treats me as a girl, and thus, I am a girl. And I am fine with it, but sometimes I don't feel like I know what I'm doing. I feel like these things that I do that make me feel more feminine are acts.

When I dress up and look sexy for a date, I feel like I am putting on some kind of show. I feel like I am getting away with something. It's exciting, actually. And it's shaped my perceptions of what it means to feel sexy. These clothes hug my curves and make my ass look great; I look awesome. People will see me as pretty. Like I mentioned in November, I don't really gender myself when I look at or think about myself. I have adjectives I use to describe my body, clothing, appearance, etc., but I don't think "sexy girl."

In a nonsexual state, I feel more feminine. When I'm aroused I feel like my femininity falls away, and what remains is slightly more masculine but still somewhere close to neutral. Perhaps that's why I enjoy stripping off my clothes before sex. I'm not a big fan of wearing lingerie during sex. I like throwing aside any of those things that help the world gender me. I suppose people could still gender me based on my body, but for some reason that doesn't occur or matter to me.

When I get naked in sexual situations, I just feel fucking hot, and I want the other person(s) to feel hot and sexy, too. I just want us to dive into each other. Whether I'm a girl to them or not doesn't matter to me at that point. For some reason, their gender is still relevant to me, I think, or perhaps it's just our dynamic that is relevant. Fuck, I don't know. This is still a work in progress.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on any/all of this. I talk with my boy about it but I don't have many other folks to ponder gender with, so if you have your own tales or any commentary here, that'd be great.

Hooking up with Ivan

noreply@blogger.com (Rockin) — Sun, 22 Apr 2012 06:08:00 +0000

After my first date with Ivan, we talked online a good bit and agreed to meet up to fuck. Neither of us called it a date. I was just going to go to his place and most likely spend the night.

I took the train over to his neighborhood and he met me at the station like he did last time. Except this time, there was no hug, and there was no excessive perfume. He just said, "Let's go," and we turned to cross the street at a brisk pace. We walked a few blocks to his apartment door, and headed upstairs.

Upon entering, we were greeted by a big friendly grey kitty. I said hi to the cat and then asked where the restroom was. Ivan pointed me in the right direction and as I sauntered to the bathroom, I took in the apartment layout; it was huge, probably six or eight people lived there. Closing the door, I could feel the happy nervousness building inside me. How were things going to happen? How far was his room from the other bedrooms? Would we have to be super quiet? I surveyed the bathroom and decided I most definitely was not setting foot in the shower, but otherwise the place seemed fine.

Ivan had shut his bedroom door, so I eased it open when I returned. He was at his laptop, which was on a wooden chair. He stood up and smiled at me as I slid my shoes off and draped my coat on the couch. "So, what's up?" he asked. I didn't have a good answer to this question, so I said, "I don't know," but at that point I realized neither the question nor the answer mattered.

He walked up to me, pushed me back on the bed and straddled my legs. He leaned in to kiss me, pushing me back a bit further so my head was on the comforter.

Two things about this were awful. I do not use the word awful lightly. He smelled, this time not like perfume but just like sweat. And the kissing, oh god, what was this? His tongue felt enormous and was all in my mouth without giving me any room to do anything while we kissed. At least the smell was fleeting, like perhaps it wasn't him but some spot on the comforter where a nasty sock had been sitting for a while. But the kissing was just bad. He kissed me for maybe twenty seconds like that and all I could think was This guy must be amazing at sex because otherwise I don't know how he gets around so much. I had to stop him to ask if he could rein in his monster tongue a bit. He obliged.

Aside from the kissing, he was skilled. Piece by piece, our clothes slid off onto the comforter. We pawed at each other, rolling around a bit. He'd get on top of me, I'd get on top of him, we'd be on our sides, and then our other sides. We made out and he fingered me a bit. He surprised me with how far he got me with just one finger in me. I think he expected me to come from what he was doing, but I didn't. I didn't expect to come at all, really. I love being close with people, getting aroused, having sex, and giving people pleasure. And I don't feel a big need to come from it; it's way easier that way.

At some point I got bothered enough (in the good way) that I wanted/needed him to fuck me, so I asked if we could make that happen. That seemed to please him. He slid on a condom and I grabbed some lube. He got on top of me and pretty much pounded me. It felt great even though he got a little distant as he came. He surprised me by how fast he fucked me as he came. Afterward, I slid over on the bed and he lay down next to me and assertively cuddled up to me. I say assertively because he pulled me to him and wrapped his arms around me, while sort of burying his head in my shoulder/arm area. It felt a little weird. I like cuddling, but I didn't really feel super cuddly since I hadn't come and we had never been close like that. I got over it pretty quickly, though, because Ivan is pretty damn disarming.

It didn't take too long before we started grinding and pawing again, and that culminated in some doggy style fun (my favorite!). After that, there was a bit of cuddling, but by that time I was incredibly turned on and wanted to get off. I thought he might go to sleep or something, but that didn't seem to be on the agenda yet, which was fine. I touched myself while he lay there, unsure if I could actually get comfortable enough to come. He slid up next to me and watched me a little bit, but wasn't overbearing about it, which was nice. After a few minutes I reached the point where I either needed to go for it or back off because I was getting into that Dangerously Aroused zone. I had two fingers in my pussy and one on my clit, and I was so fucking wet.

I asked him to get closer to me, and he moved up so his face was right next to mine and our torsos touched a little. I asked him to say he wanted to fuck me, and he obliged. I just needed some semblance of connection beyond touch, and words really help me feel that. He stayed there, close to me, and I was surprised at how okay I was with all of it. I felt pretty vulnerable at this point, but it was okay somehow. He touched my breasts a little and played with my nipples as I edged closer. Then I came. I came right there in his bed. It was the first time I'd come in the presence* of any other person besides my boy in about seven years. I felt like a grew a little in that moment. I felt liberated. After I came, I felt tired, relieved, and happy. Ivan was just as happy to cuddle with me as he'd been before, which was awesome. We lay there for a little bit while I enjoyed my afterglow.

By this point we were both thirsty and hungry, so we threw on some clothes and moseyed out to the apartment's kitchen. We made some eggs and veggies to eat, chatting a bit while the food cooked. It felt really easy. We ate as things were ready to eat, so we just stood there next to the stove munching on stuff. After we finished, he washed the dishes we used and we went back to his room.

Laying on his bed again, we talked more, cuddled, and teased each other a bit. We built up a little more slowly this time. I slid on top of him when we wanted to have sex, and it was the oddest and best girl-on-top experience I've had. I'd say I'm least talented at girl-on-top sex compared to most other traditional positions. I just don't know how to work a cock to make myself feel good in that position. But I didn't have much of a chance to flounder this time. I was on top of Ivan with my knees on either side of his hips, and he pulled me down so my hands were on either side of his head, I think. He wrapped one arm under one of my arms and put that hand on my shoulder. His other hand went down to my hip or thigh or something. The details aren't exactly clear now, but the end result was quite interesting: he pretty much immobilized me even though I was on top. I couldn't move to fuck him. He was inside me and he could stroke by moving under me, using my body as a push/pull-off point. I use the word "immobilize" here because I tried to "get free" of this, but he had me there pretty good. He fucked me like that and I really had to brace so I didn't fall onto him; it was a little rougher than the other times (which was quite fine!). Again he seemed surprised that I didn't come and wasn't close to it, but the sex still felt great to me. (Can't sex just feel good?)

We talked a little more, but by then we were both tired and ready for sleep. I brushed my teeth and got into bed with him; it felt sort of like a sleepover, strangely, but in a good way. He spooned me for a bit then rolled onto his back when he fell asleep, which was fine by me—I don't like much weight on my body when I sleep. I didn't sleep well because of the noise outside and the new environment, but it wasn't bad.

I remember the morning light in the room. I listened to the traffic and people outside and fell in and out of consciousness. At some point we were both awake and cuddling again. We pawed and dry-humped a bit with him behind me. We slowed down to talk. He wanted to know what my impressions of him were. I asked him what he thought of me, too. We swapped impressions and various anecdotes before getting back into some more heavy petting.

"At some point I want to come down your throat. At some point," he'd said before while we were fooling around the night before. So we made that happen. He was really quiet when he came, which I interpreted as me not performing well, but he still seemed pleased and pulled me up his body so he could kiss me. We lay there a little while, then he asked if I wanted any food. He brought me some cereal and milk and we ate breakfast on his bed and chatted a little.

I'd been keeping an eye on the clock, and knew I had to leave soon. I brushed my teeth, made my hair look presentable, and then came back to his room to get dressed. As I was putting my clothes in my purse, I asked him point blank, "So, what do you think? You want to see me again?"

He grinned at me with that smartass grin of his, and said, "Oh, I guess." I smiled. He walked me to the door and kissed me as I was leaving. The mid-morning sunshine on my walk to the train station was just lovely.
_____________________
*I got off once after Brennan fell asleep; it didn't really feel like I had any company.

Second date is the new third date

noreply@blogger.com (Rockin) — Wed, 11 Apr 2012 11:17:00 +0000

A conversation about my boy's upcoming date with a girl from OkCupid. She's coming to our house so they can hang out.

I: ...and you know where the gloves and condoms are if you need them.
He: *laughs* Yeah, yeah I know.
I: And I think your bottle of lube is back in your room.
He: I really don't think anything like that is going to happen.
I: Oh? Well, I was just saying in case it did.
He: I mean, it's only our second date...
I: *raises an eyebrow*
He: Oh wait, I forgot who I was talking to.

What's funny is that while, yes, I had sex with one guy on the first date and another guy on the second date, my boy had sex with Mel the second time he saw her in person (read: the first time he saw her on his own). He seems to forget that when it's convenient for him. Quickly getting intimate with someone is not a priority for me, but it can be a good time. I guess you could say those situations come looking for me sometimes, and I'm not opposed to them. I go with what feels good and safe.

Anyway, a better response to all my sex-prep talk would have been "We probably won't screw around since you'll be right down the hallway." At least, at some point(s) during the evening I'll be there. I'm having I-think-it's-platonic coffee with a guy from OkCupid on that same evening. I'm looking forward to meeting the girl from OkCupid, and I want to give them their space. We really need more furniture so more of the rooms are hangout-friendly. Right now all we have is comfy seating in the living room and...beds. And I mean, beds are fine (I'd hang out on a bed), but it'd be good to have a second seating area that wasn't, you know, a bed.

I think the plan is for them to hang out on the comfy living room seating and for me to hang out in my room. I'm excited about his date!

It's been a while since I wrote one of those This is Open posts; this might be a good time to start those up again.

Ten Reasons to Love (My) Small Boobs

noreply@blogger.com (Rockin) — Sat, 07 Apr 2012 03:26:00 +0000

Femal torso by 4johnny5 CC BY 2.0

I was perusing some sex and body articles today and this related article title caught my eye: "10 Reasons to Love Small Boobs." I thought I'd take a minute before reading their list and write my own version so I could compare. I wasn't trying to guess what the article would write about; I just wanted to come up with ten reasons of my own. If you'd like to take the challenge, go ahead and write down your reasons before reading below or clicking over to the other article. Then you can compare, too!

Ten Reasons to Love (My) Small Boobs
1. They'll look great even as I get into my 30s (she writes wishfully).
2. Sometimes I can get away with not wearing a bra.
3. Shelf bras in tank tops actually work.
4. I can run while wearing a good sports bra without any boobish discomfort.
5. Speaking of sports bras, I can find and wear sports bras very easily.
6. I can see my belly, cunt, and feet whenever I want without my boobs getting in the way.
7. I will not be a suspect in a Murdered By Breasts murder case.
8. They still look perky when I lie down.
9. You can grab almost my whole breast with your hand.
10. If you grab them while doing me doggy style, you can use them to pull me back onto you since they aren't far out from my body.

A few of mine were similar or the same as the ones in The Frisky, but I think I put my own touch on them. What else did you come up with? I'd love to read your reasons in the comments!

It's a Test: Do You Make Sexy Pic Requests?

noreply@blogger.com (Rockin) — Wed, 04 Apr 2012 07:30:00 +0000

Sometimes when a guy pressures me to send him a sexy picture of me, I consider writing something on my profile specifically about picture requests. Each time, I stop myself.

Moda poloroid by helgabj CC BY 2.0

Why wouldn't I just warn people? Why wouldn't I say, Hey, please don't ask me for sexy pictures; that annoys me?

It wouldn't be much of a test if I gave everyone the answer.

I don't know what goes through these people's heads who want to meet/date/fuck me.* Do they think I don't understand that they might want to see me naked? That they might want a picture of me? Asking me for sexy/nude/semi-nude pictures, especially right up front, is pretty damn forward. And not forward in a good way, like saying that you're interested in me. They're making a request, and a somewhat serious one as far as online interactions go. It's actually worse than sending me a picture of their cock or entire naked body. They're putting me on the spot, and if I don't really know you, that doesn't fare well for you.

What's sad, for them, is that I'm kind of an exhibitionist. I don't know if you lovely readers have picked up on that or not. *grin* I like my body, and I like showing it off. And if they don't pressure me about it, I will send pictures on my own volition. Really, I will, once I get to know them a bit and I think they might like it. I like making the people I care about happy. Plus, taking and sending pictures is fun, exciting, and feels just a bit naughty.

So I leave the issue of sexy pictures up to people's own judgment. And when they're pushy about it, I know it's probably best to let them go while they're just being pushy about pictures. Somehow some people know that it's rude to be pushy or even ask at all depending on the interaction level. And those people? Those people I (try my best to) keep around, please, date, fuck, and enjoy.

Thoughts on the Thinking Woman’s (Quick Start) Guide to Threesomes

noreply@blogger.com (Rockin) — Wed, 28 Mar 2012 20:00:00 +0000

Full disclosure: I've never been a part of a threesome. I'll be sure to come back and edit this post when I've had one, and I'll note if I've changed my stance on any of this stuff.

Jessica Blankenship has received some criticism about her Thinking Woman's Guide to Threesomes posted on Thought Catalog earlier this week. I think one aspect of it is legitimate, but for the most part I think everyone's getting bent out of shape for little to no reason.

The article is solid overall, except this one thing: It's almost certainly good for the party-of-threesome to have a little discussion beforehand. It need not be lengthy. It need not be "planning," as in a play-by-play of what's to take place under the soft glow of candlelight. But everyone needs to talk about what will not happen. Everyone has limits, and they need to state them. Whether one of you doesn't want any fingers in your ass, or one of you doesn't want your partner to penetrate the "guest star" with their penis, there's probably something that you'd rather have out in the open beforehand so you aren't refereeing in the moment. I guess you could wear a little whistle, but wouldn't it be easier to just talk about it beforehand, especially if you're planning to get drunk in order to get naked?

With that aspect out of the way, I'll stand behind the rest of the article because Blankenship makes some damn good points. It's good to think about who you're fucking and whether you might want them in a romantic way. And if you do want them for more than sex and friendship, don't have a threesome with them. And it probably is easier to be the "guest star" and not have to worry about (your own or) a partner's perceptions of what's happening during the threesome. That doesn't mean the guest star should be a dick about it, and Blankenship isn't advocating acting competitive or possessive; if anything, she's emphasizing disconnectedness. She also emphasizes safety and the importance of being able to joke about the experience afterward.

I really like the pro-guest-star angle on the piece, too. You heard about how hard it is to find someone to be a unicorn for your threesome, right? This piece is very pro-unicorn. Get on out there and have fun with some couples, folks! I like it.

Some people really want to feel connected to the people they're fucking. Some people want to have multiple romantic partners. Some couples are not secure in their relationship and may encounter tension or difficulties when dealing with the so-called aftermath of a threesome. Blankenship doesn't address these issues in the article, and there's nothing wrong with that. As she says in a reply to a comment on her article, "Yeah, I wrote something that covered all of that too. But it was called the 'The Over-Thinking Woman's Guide to Threesomes' and it was no fun at all so we didn't run it."

The piece reads like a quick-start guide, and we all know those don't have all the gritty details you might want or need to know about your product. Take it for what it is: a thought-provoking article to get your gears spinning about the idea of having group sex. And more power to the people writing about it!

Current front runner for rudest and most ignorant message I've received on OkCupid

noreply@blogger.com (Rockin) — Tue, 27 Mar 2012 09:57:00 +0000

Message from "24 / M / Straight / Single":
"so, it says you are bi.

so, what do you have down there?"

My reply:
"Are you seriously asking me about my genital area? That is incredibly rude."

Message from "24 / M / Straight / Single":
"im sorry if that was rude. but i really want to know b/c ur are hot and i don't want to be talking to a guy"

OK Go-pid

noreply@blogger.com (Rockin) — Tue, 20 Mar 2012 03:04:00 +0000

I like OK Go. I like Heidi Niedermeyer. And y'all know I like OkCupid. It'd just be wrong if I didn't post this video combining all three of those lovely things (or bastardized versions of them) for y'all to enjoy.

Everyone likes to have fun: How you shoot yourself in the foot on your dating profile

noreply@blogger.com (Rockin) — Sat, 17 Mar 2012 11:23:00 +0000

Everyone likes to have fun. Fun is, by definition, something enjoyable, and it's a universal truth that people like enjoying themselves at least on occasion. Maybe people on OkCupid want to establish that they are real humans by saying things like "I like to have fun" on their profiles, but things like this are all too common and I am sick of it. Y'all don't need to deal with it, either. So here we go.

How you shoot yourself in the foot on your dating profile
There are three main ways I've observed thus far.

1. You say things about yourself that aren't helpful
Examples: "I'm laid back." "I'm nice." "I'm a cool guy/girl/person." "I'm fun."
Translation: You probably only know people who are overbearing, mean, and boring. With those low standards, I probably seem amazing to you.
These people: Need to get to know themselves better.

Examples: "I'm not..." "I'm not the kind of person who..." (full disclosure: I was totally guilty of this one)
Translation: I like to make you guess what I am by telling you what I'm not. Please fill in the spaces in the most positive ways possible.
These people: Like telling the truth in negative statements but aren't upfront about who they actually are.

2. You want things that everyone wants
Examples: "I like to have fun." "I love to laugh." "I like to have a good time."
Translation: You don't like being specific. You like for other people to entertain you.
These people: Lack imagination, initiative, and/or precision.

3. You show how you've been damaged by society
Everybody's damaged. You can talk about that on a date after a drink or two. That's what they call bonding, right?

Examples: Every example used thus far.
Translations: Someone didn't believe that I was nice/fun/cool. I got hurt by someone who is XYZ and want to explicitly say that I am not XYZ. I used to date someone that had no sense of humor / was boring / didn't like to have a good time (whatever that means).
These people: Are trying not to make the same mistakes again, but aren't quite sure how.

Example: "The most private thing you're willing to admit is: I'm on OkCupid."
Translation: You're embarrassed to be here with tens of thousands of other people looking to find connection, sex, love, fun, whatever.
These people: Have a little bit of self-hatred mixed with judgment of the entire site and the need to justify their decisions.

Examples: "I hate describing myself." "I cannot be described in text form." "This self-summary cannot fully describe me."
Translation: Either they like being mysterious or they feel more comfortable talking about themselves in private / on the phone / in person.
These people: Might not have favorable opinions about themselves or just simply lack adjectives.

So, what are some ways to improve?

1. Get to know yourself so you can describe yourself more specifically.
You're one of thousands of people on a dating site. Be unique somehow. Find a way. Now is not the time to blend into the mainstream.

2. Show off your style and personality by talking about something else besides yourself.
Talk about an adventure you had, a conversation, an experience that taught you something, or something that interests you. Or just be hilarious (I know, I know, I say it like it's so simple).

3. Don't update your profile when you're upset.
Your emotions will show through and might make you come off as more of an ass than you really are. Wait until you aren't being bothered by bad memories to put yourself out there. Take your time and remember that you can (and should) update your profile whenever you want so it stays fresh.

What's it like to fuck new people?

noreply@blogger.com (Rockin) — Wed, 14 Mar 2012 09:36:00 +0000

One day my boy asked me what it's like for me when I have sex with new people.

The first thing that came to mind was: It's not nearly as scary as I think it will be. I get all worried beforehand that something will go horribly wrong, that it's going to be strange or scary or weird or something, and so far it's been none of that at all. I show up and have fun. And while things are happening, when I'm not focusing entirely on the excitement of discovering and enjoying a new person's body, I'm in disbelief at how easy all of it is.

Brennan: Radio silence

noreply@blogger.com (Rockin) — Mon, 05 Mar 2012 20:08:00 +0000

This is Part 3. To catch up or refresh, see Part 1 and Part 2.

After my visit to see Brennan, I flew out. I stayed a few other places before I flew back home. There were some texts. And then there weren't any more. No texts. No IMs. No phone calls. Just silence. After a week or so, I started wondering what was up, and it felt all too similar to what happened with Carter last summer. At least from my experience, you don't ignore people you're into. You don't ignore people you want to keep in your life.

It hurt. I hurt. I'd been honest and open with this guy, and whenever I'd say or do anything that was out of line, he'd call me on it, and we'd talk, and we'd work it out. I'd apologize, explain what was going on in my head, and we'd move on. It worked both ways, at least until now. Now there was no apparent conflict. There was just silence. So I initiated contact and asked what was up, because it's what I do. For the first time in a while, I got a really obvious bullshit runaround answer. He'd been busy and couldn't say for sure what was going on. You can't say for sure? Like, your senses are misfiring and you aren't accurately interpreting reality? Fuck That Nonsense. Fuck it in its evasive, cowardly ass. So I called him on it—gently, with much more restraint than was deserved—and got a more helpful response: He was seeing someone new.

That made things a hell of a lot clearer. I quickly ended the IM conversation (politely) because I wanted to take a bit of time to compose some words (and myself).

I emailed him later that evening. I thought we'd be on the same page when I explained, with rational email words instead of hastily typed IM ones, why I felt hurt and that I didn't understand why he chose to ignore me instead of telling me something had changed. He replied with an acknowledgement but no apology. It was the equivalent of "That's nice, dear," and it stung.

I can want someone to be happy and also want them to treat me with respect; I see no dichotomy in those statements. I can understand why someone wants to see multiple people or stop seeing one of the people, but that doesn't mean I can be treated without regard. I'm a person. Brennan and I had some history, and were at least familiar acquaintances before anything got flirty. It all just hurt.

I'd say we're still friends, but not as close as we were before anything else happened. I expect nothing from him.

It might come as a surprise that I don't regret getting into a "more than friends" situation with him, but I really don't. I had some new experiences and a good bit of fun. I learned things I wanted to learn, and some things I didn't want to learn, but knowledge is power either way. As they say (and they're right), there are more fish in the sea. Goodbye, Brennan, and good luck.

I feel like this post is inherently passive aggressive since he knows about this blog and I've included things here that I haven't told him directly. But at this point I don't really care how this comes off, and I doubt he'll ever read it anyway. I stand by my words. They're honest and real, like I wished he'd been.

Book Review: Tickle My Tush

noreply@blogger.com (Rockin) — Tue, 28 Feb 2012 08:00:00 +0000

Image from TickleKitty.com

Tickle My Tush is a guide to analplay adventures by Dr. Sadie Allison, America's Pleasure Coach. Dr. Sadie packs a lot of tips, suggestions, and tasteful illustrations into this softcover book, which is 150-ish pages long.

Quick Peek
Topics: Anal anatomy, "booty massage," anal fingering, rimming, anal sex (with a penis and with a strap-on), safety, hygiene, anal toys, sex position suggestions
Tone: Personal, positive, and professional
Target Audience: "His & Her" couples
Pictures: Explicit, realistic drawings

Review
If you're new to anal pleasure, or if you're a beginner who wants to learn more, you'll probably enjoy this book. After a few introductory chapters with general information about anal play, you'll find information on health and safety, personal hygiene, and backdoor anatomy. From there, the book dives into different forms of anal play: massage, manual stimulation, fingering, rimming, and different forms of penetration. Near the end of the book, Dr. Sadie lays out some basic product information for anal toys (plugs, beads, prostate stimulators, etc.) and strap-on harnesses. The book concludes with some tips and illustrations for positioning and some FAQs (that's "frequently assed questions").

Tickle My Tush predominantly speaks to couples, but the instructions and tips can easily be applied solo as well. In addition to aiding with anal sex exploration, many of the tips are applicable to lots of types of sex (emphasizing communication, using barriers, getting comfortable with each other's bodies).

In several sections of the book, Dr. Sadie assigns names to suggested positions, methods, or motions for anal pleasure. These names, like "Surfboarding" (massage position) and "Butt Buffer" (external manual method) help lighten the mood and might help couples communicate better. It's easier to say, "Let's try this one," than to explain what motion you think would feel best. The names and explanations also help divide the pleasure techniques into sections that are easy to handle, and should help comfort the reader if they're nervous. Dr. Sadie puts a lot of emphasis on the fact that everyone has different desires and limits, and that there's absolutely nothing wrong with saying "I don't want to do that."

Some of the language seemed a little silly to me (e.g. He-spot, Pleasure Tunnel), but I'm a fan of technical terms and coarser slang, and those things wouldn't fit with the tone of this book. People who are just starting to explore anal pleasure may appreciate the book's "more enlightened" language.

As a woman who has explored anal play but hasn't had anal sex with a penis, I gained some confidence by reading this book. I especially liked the massage technique descriptions. I feel more comfortable pursuing anal sex, and I think my partner would enjoy reading this book as well.

I recommend this book for two main reasons. First, it treats all of its topics with respect; the book is a shame-free zone. Dr. Sadie covers topic after topic in a light-hearted and fun manner, while keeping things professional. Puns and role-reversal jokes are the only forms of humor; I was glad that there weren't any sarcastic references to anal play being dirty or deviant. Second, Tickle My Tush covers anal play topics in order "from mild to wild," which is wise. I envision curious people starting the book and coming back for more if they realize they enjoy backdoor adventures. And that's awesome. Tickle My Tush is a book that's easy to pick up, easy to browse, and easy to return to when you want to explore more.

This book was provided to me in exchange for an honest review. This review is in compliance with FTC guidelines.

You've got a lot of gall, lady (SLLOTD Response)

noreply@blogger.com (Rockin) — Sun, 26 Feb 2012 08:00:00 +0000

By the end of this Savage Love Letter of the Day, I was wide-eyed and dumbfounded. Then I read Dan's response and had a very serious WTF face. Go read the letter. It's about giving a partner permission to sleep with other people while you're away for a long time.

Did you read it? Good.

When I got to the part where the letter-writer says "Now I'm wondering if it's worth staying with him," I started laughing. SHE'S wondering if SHE should stay with HIM? She said he could sleep with people. Told him not to tell her if he slept with people, and then asked him about it and then (in her own probably spot-on words) "freaked out at all of this and have become that crazy psycho bitch that is paranoid about everything he does."

And she's contemplating whether HE'S worth her time? Holy shit. I figure Dan's going to set her ass straight.

But he doesn't! He's all, "Yeah, DTMFA." DTMFA? If anyone is the MF here deserving of being dumped, it's her self-destructive ass.

She came back from the study abroad and ASKED HIM IF HE'D SLEPT WITH PEOPLE. After saying she didn't want to know. She asked "casually." All of this implies that even though he said that fateful (and almost certainly false) line that he didn't want to sleep with anyone, they still agreed THAT HE COULD IF HE WANTED TO. Otherwise, why would she ask?

Yeah, he lied. I know he did. He told her that he couldn't imagine sleeping with other people, and I just...I'm sorry, I don't know if I'd have bought that one when I was a teenager. I certainly wouldn't buy it now. Couldn't imagine? It sounds so idealistic and romantic (and honestly a little creepy). It sounds like something you'd say before your significant other went away for a year, maybe in the hopes that it'd calm their nerves. And it's still a lie. I'm not pardoning the dude for saying it.

But this all comes down to being an adult and realizing that your words have meaning. If you tell someone they can sleep with people, then they should be able to sleep with people without you going all "crazy psycho bitch" on them. And if you tell someone you don't want to know if they sleep with people, and then you come back and ask about it, I think you're a little fucked up in a self-destructive way. You're asking for trouble. You know what you want to hear. You want to hear more of that romantsy-pantsy bullshit about how he'd never even think about diving cock-first into a new lady. But what's really bad is that you can't handle the truth, which is probably why he felt like he had to say the romantsy-pantsy stuff in the first place.

As many commenters mentioned, both of these folks are fucked up. I'm still in awe of the gall of this lady, though, to flip-flop about what's okay, take things personally when HE DIDN'T GO OUT OF TOWN FOR THE SEXIN', snoop around, get paranoid, and then act like he's the one with so many issues.

The choice of abortion and pregnancy disclosure

noreply@blogger.com (Rockin) — Sat, 25 Feb 2012 08:00:00 +0000

Here's how I think about it.

I can bear children (at least, I think I have that potential). Sometimes I fuck people who could potentially get me pregnant. I go into the sex with the mindset that I don't want any children. Anyone I'm banging needs to have the same mindset. I don't want to fuck people who are looking to have a baby with me right then.

I go into the sex with the mindset that we're using contraception to prevent pregnancy and STIs. If I were trying to get pregnant, I wouldn't use condoms.

I don't specifically tell people I fuck that if I get pregnant from the sex, there's about a 99.99% chance I'll get an abortion. Maybe I should do that. I'm not sure. I don't think it would change anything, though. What about that 0.01%? That's up to me. Call it selfish, sexist, anything you like. You're allowed your opinion on my bodily choices. But you're not going to make me keep or abort a baby if I don't want to do it.

If you can get me pregnant, you have your own choices to make.

You can choose not to have sex with me. That's your choice. Once we have consensual sex, what I do with what might start growing in my body is up to me. I'm not stealing anyone's sperm.

You can also choose to talk to me before we have sex. I'll tell you that I'll almost certainly have an abortion if you get me pregnant, and you can decide if you're okay with that. I am always thinking about the possibility of pregnancy and taking as many reasonable precautions as possible. I've also seriously considered the options for dealing with conception. If you're proactive and talk to me about the possible outcomes of sex (pregnancy, abortion, etc.), and you want me to tell you if I get pregnant, then I will. If I give you my word on something, I will keep it.

But maybe you choose to have sex with me and choose not to be proactive about talking about the outcomes. Well...

If you are a one-time / casual partner of mine, and we don't have contact or communication after banging, there's a good chance I wouldn't tell you if you got me pregnant. And I'd almost certainly have an abortion.

If we aren't really committed to each other but we communicate (regardless of the level of our relationship intimacy), there's a good chance I'd tell you if you got me pregnant if I felt like it would be a productive conversation. And if I'm choosing to have you in my life, there's a good chance we'd have a productive conversation. I'd still almost certainly have an abortion.

If I'm committed to you, I'd tell you if you got me pregnant. We've talked about what our desires are, whether we'd like to have children together at all ever, and you'll know what's up. There's a slightly lower chance that I'd have an abortion, but at this point in time, I'm still pretty much set in a no-pregnancies, no-children mindset.

I'm sure there are other scenarios I could cover here, but these are the basic ones I keep in mind as far as abortion and pregnancy disclosure are concerned.

I'm giving up vibrators for Lent

noreply@blogger.com (Rockin) — Thu, 23 Feb 2012 22:00:00 +0000

From now until April 8th (Easter), I will refrain from using vibrators on my body. I try to make some kind of lifestyle change each year for Lent*, and this year I've decided that my time spent with vibrators is often less than ideal.

Sometimes I just want to get off. I'll feel a little frustrated and I'll really just want to get on with life and do something else, but I'm horny so I'll get off and be done with it. After some consideration, I don't like the way I handle my sexual arousal sometimes. My arousal and desire to feel release is just a part of who I am. It's an urge; a need that I try to meet.

When I come with a vibrator without much self-appreciation, it feels like the equivalent of wolfing down a meal replacement bar when I'm hungry.** There's a need and a meet it in a fix-it-and-forget-it fashion. The orgasm itself feels good, sure, but the experience is often hurried and feels like a chore. I'd like to spend more time enjoying myself and learning about my body instead of just placating my desires with a quick fix.

I try not to worry about whether this practice is damaging my libido as a whole, but honestly that's part of why I'm making this change.

So here's to forty days and forty nights without vibrators. Fingers, dildos, dicks, and orgasms are all still welcome.

________________
*I'm an atheist who enjoys participating in certain religious rituals. I just like discipline trials, really.

**I avoid meal replacement bars. They usually disgust me.

OkCupid's new "Send a Drink" button

noreply@blogger.com (Rockin) — Tue, 21 Feb 2012 08:19:00 +0000

Instead of Wink, you
can Send a Drink.

If you're on OkCupid, you may have noticed the new Send a Drink button near the top of the profile pages. It's sitting there with the rest of the buttons, waiting for your gentle mouse click. I thought it might do something cool or at least something weird; maybe it'd let you name a drink after the person you're messaging or something. Then you could send them the personalized drink with some well-intentioned-but-doomed-to-fail message like: "Hey, you're cute so here's a Cutiepolitan for you." I don't know. I thought it'd be fun.

But no. No. The damn button's just advertising. When I clicked Send a Drink, a little box popped up with a Smirnoff ad and the same old message field you get if you just click the Message button. Borrrrrring.

My boy's take on it?
"You're on an online dating site. You could probably use a shot."

Other people aren't taking it lightly. Here are a couple tidbits from users who reacted in their profiles:

Well, as a free online dating site, it's always been that for the people who want to hook up. Apparently you are ABOVE ALL THAT NONSENSE, Mr. Straight Married Man. Get over yourself.

Let me know when that button actually sends an alcoholic some goddamn alcohol and we'll talk. Otherwise, can it. It's a button. And when you click it, and send someone a message through it, there is no mention of a drink or alcohol in the actual message unless you mention it YOU TACTLESS ASSHOLE HOW DARE YOU?!?

In summary, unimpressive but made mildly amusing by other people's disgust.

Today I bought 72 condoms

noreply@blogger.com (Rockin) — Sun, 19 Feb 2012 11:06:00 +0000

Safer sex is sexy sex!

We were out of condoms. That part should be obvious. I'm not one to buy condoms for the fun of it when I have perfectly usable ones sitting at home.

What might not be obvious is that I like a good deal. So when I saw that the Trojan Magnums were part of a deal where you buy two boxes and get an instant rebate, I pounced. Well, I pounced after some consideration. After all, I'd have been totally set with 36 condoms, so I went looking for other fun contraceptives that were eligible for this rebate deal. I really wanted to try the Magnum Thin* version, because I've never tried any other Magnums besides the original (and the Fire & Ice style, accidentally). And thin? Thin sounded good. But the Magnum Thins weren't eligible. The bastards. And I sure wasn't going to buy two boxes of regular Magnums and a 12-pack of Thins because buying 84 condoms at one time would have been overkill. But 72? Sure. Bring it on.

The cashier lady was cool. She was all, "Oooh, you got a rebate!" when she rang them up and the screen showed me saving a bunch of money. I told her, smiling, "Yeah, that's why I bought so many," and we shared one of those awesome womanly laughs.

________________
*Anyone use Trojan Magnum Thins? I'd love to hear whether they're worth their fucking high price tag (they were three or four times more expensive per condom than the regular Magnums). Email me!

Ivan: First date

noreply@blogger.com (Rockin) — Fri, 17 Feb 2012 11:41:00 +0000

For the first time in a while, I arrived early for a date. Ivan crossed the street to meet me, and he gave me a hug. I'm still not used to hugging when meeting someone for the first time.

He was wearing way too much cologne. It hurt my nose a little. And that, my dears, was the worst part of the date. Right there at the beginning.

We walked around for a while, looking for a place to have a drink and talk without having to yell. While we walked, we talked about middle-of-the-road kinds of things: work, previous schools, what we liked to do for fun, where we'd lived before, etc.

Finally, fucking finally, we found coffee shop that was open and would be open for a while yet. Good. We got a table away from the other people in the place, way in the back. We sat at adjacent seats at the table, and turned so we were facing each other.

Then we got into it.

You might remember that I claimed to have the best first conversation with this guy. I can't say that the conversation we had at the coffee shop was better, per se, because comparing an IM convo to an in-person one isn't that useful. But since it was in person, it was way more fun.

I'll admit, I didn't expect to talk about love on a first date. But we did. A lot.

We talked about open relationships, what it means to love someone else, what it means to love oneself, how to motivate yourself, and standards you hold yourself to vs. other people. We both got pretty animated from time to time. It was kinda hot, actually. Ivan's the kind of person to give you shit (playfully) when you fuck up, and I like that. It keeps me on my toes and in Challenge Mode. It also lets me know I can jab at him without worrying that he'll take it personally.

Our interactions in person were quite similar to those online in the sense that they were friend-like and upfront, with little to no romantic flirting or traditional come-on tactics. During pauses in conversation, I'd gaze at my drink or around the room at the art on the walls. And sometimes I'd look back over at him and he'd just be staring at me, smiling a bit. In contrast to the non-romantic conversation, the staring made me feel a little fluttery, and I wasn't sure what to make of it.

Ivan said he'd never been in love. He has a girlfriend; they're long distance and open. From what I've gathered, he's looking for sex and friendship (but not love, I suppose). And I think the sex priority is way higher than the friendship priority.

The end of the date was the second worst part of it, and I don't mean that in some romancy-pantsy way. I mean it was a little awkward, and that awkwardness was completely my fault. See, by the end of the date I was feeling pretty sure I wanted to see him again, and I wanted to touch him more (way more than a hyper-perfumed hug). What I didn't know until later was that he was sick and didn't want to get super close to me because he felt kinda gross. So at the time, I was kind of lingering, and he was in hug-only mode, and I was getting nervous that I wasn't coming across like I was interested in seeing him again, and it was awkward. Not horribly so, but it could've been a lot better. Awkwardness aside, we said goodbye with a hug. Period.

We both said cliche things like "Let's do this again," but we meant them. I told him to hit me up sometime, and then I went to wait for my train.

While I was on the train platform, I got this text message from Ivan: "Too soon? :P"

Do you fuck to music?

noreply@blogger.com (Rockin) — Wed, 15 Feb 2012 12:05:00 +0000

I don't.

I honestly can't think of a time when I've ever had sex to music. I think I've gotten off to some tunes a couple times. And I'm betting I had some music playing during make-out sessions when I was a teen, but as an adult, I just haven't included music in partner sex. Massages, yeah, I've put music on for them. But not for making out or sex.

I have no fucking idea why, aside from just lack of forethought or planning.

I'm a very aurally-stimulated person. One would think that music would get me in the mood. And they'd be right. IT DOES. And it'd have been super easy to have music on during sex in our previous living situations, where our desks were in the same room as our bed(s). Now it'd be harder--we have our desks in separate rooms from where we sleep/fuck. How to overcome this? Obviously the answer is to have more office sex, hallway sex, and/or floor fucking. Or install a sound system in the house.

And that brings me to my next question...what music to you listen to when you have sex? I love a lot of music. I get turned on by a lot of music. But I just can't imagine fucking to that many songs. I mean, "Closer" comes to mind immediately, but even that doesn't seem fitting for all occasions. I'm sitting here thinking about "Closer" and there's not an easy near-relative to that song that comes to mind. All I've got are these total offshoots like "Superbass" and "Your Body is a Wonderland."

So help me out here. Do you listen to music when you're getting down to it? What kind(s)? I'm guessing people listen to music during sex because it's more fun that way. And that makes me wonder...
has music ever made sex worse for you?

Bisexuality and bisexual allies

noreply@blogger.com (Rockin) — Mon, 13 Feb 2012 11:35:00 +0000

I've recently become more educated about bisexuality. I've identified as bisexual for a while now, but for time I thought I needed to stop using the term "bisexual" and replaced it with "queer." I felt somewhat comfortable with labeling my sexual orientation as queer but it didn't quite fit right to me. As I read more about bisexuality, I decided to go back to identifying openly as bisexual.

To me, bisexual means two sexualities. One sexuality is my attraction toward people of the same or similar genders to my own (homosexuality) and the other is my attraction toward people of different genders from my own (heterosexuality). While I'm not sure math can capture all the intricacies of sexuality, the equation Bisexuality = Homosexuality + Heterosexuality fits for me. I think (I hope) this definition of bisexuality is an inclusive one. I intend it to be.

I want to share a couple resources I found while researching bisexuality:

Many writings helped further my understanding of bisexuality, and I'll link to two here: Why I identify as bisexual and not pansexual by bidyke and The "two" in "bisexual" by V.

Here is a list of bisexual-related items. These points address some ways to "embrace the bisexual/pansexual/fluid communities."

Here is an It Gets Better video aimed at bisexual people:

I'll be writing more about bisexuality in the coming weeks, and I hope you'll come back and check it out. If you haven't subscribed to my feed, now is an awesome time to do that! I also encourage you to follow @BisexualFTW on Twitter for more resources and writings about bisexuality.

I can't let it be, I have to know

noreply@blogger.com (Rockin) — Sat, 11 Feb 2012 11:12:00 +0000

This entry applies only to dating/romantic/sexual connections. Friends and other platonic connections don't make batty in the way I describe here.

I have a problem. At least, I think it's a problem. When I feel like I am in the dark, or unsure of something, I pick at it. I have to know what's going on.

I can handle people being rude to me. That's a clear signal. I can handle people changing their minds (and telling me!). I can handle rejection. While those things are not often pleasant to deal with, I can deal with them.

I cannot handle being ignored. There is no contact. There is no information. There is no closure.

My boy compares these situations to a cut. I can either pick at the cut or let it be; and either a) nothing's wrong or b) something's wrong and I can't do anything about it. But I get irrational. I start thinking maybe there is something wrong...maybe there is something wrong that I could do something about if only I knew.

I blame a problem on a lack of knowledge. Just talk to me, tell me if something's changed. But it's more than that. It's not all irrational. It's not just that I'm concerned about someone or whatever possible issue exists between us. It's self-defense. It's self-preservation. Whenever I pick at something, whenever I cave and try to make contact after hearing nothing for a while, I'm seeking closure as much as (and sometimes even more than) I am seeking to mend things between us.

For fuck's sake, if you're actively ignoring me (e.g. not responding to messages when I can see you're online), you're being rude. If you're being rude, then I'm going to be selfish. The haze of politeness has faded. I'm looking out for number one.

Of course, there comes a time when I just say fuck it and move on. I just prefer to have a clear-cut (and hopefully accurate) impression of the situation, even if it's destructive in the end. That's why I think this is a problem. I prefer destruction for the sake of certainty over an ambiguous connection, and I'm not sure if that's a good thing.

I write all of this knowing full well that I've ignored people. All but one were short-term online contacts. I feel bad about the one person I saw a couple times and just didn't keep up with. I think he emailed after our last date and I didn't respond. I placate myself with the thought that I'd be honest if he'd contacted me again and/or asked what was up. But I know it would have been better just to have leveled with him, and that it's too late to say anything now.

My expectation for honesty is really where all of this originates. I'm not afraid of the truth, whether I'm speaking it or asking for it. I'm afraid of the silence and the filler words that stand in front of the truth.